


Why?

by VicenteValtieri



Series: Mnd Fuckery [10]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Don't Read This, It's garbage, LITERALLY, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 14:17:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13549101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VicenteValtieri/pseuds/VicenteValtieri
Summary: So this is how much my muse hates me.





	Why?

Power.

Megatron had no idea what the word meant.

Holding someone’s life in one’s servos, knowing he could snuff it out at any time… choosing not to. That was power. 

Power was softly speaking a name and the owner perking up suddenly, going both still and eager at the same time, waiting for a command, for a comment, for a question or a phrase. 

Power was leaving the door to the cage open, knowing that the bird inside would never leave said cage, and didn’t even want to.

Power was holding someone in one arm and feeling the delicate thrum of systems beneath his servos, knowing he could do egregious harm. Choosing not to.

Choosing not to act was sometimes as important as acting. Pressing a kiss to soft lips as important as leaning over those same lips as they gasped and screamed pleasure.

It was something Megatron would never be able to understand.

But Optimus did. He knew the weight of power, the delicate thrum of its systems, the carefully maintained balance. 

He didn’t enter into this lightly. Stained as his servos were, he always hesitated before reaching out to bloody them further. War was Hell, but he hesitated to commit another sin. A far more damning one. Processor washing was nothing to be taken lightly.

He wouldn’t have considered it if they weren’t desperate. Cybertron had fallen. They had been forced to flee their own planet to the depths of space. They were battling across the Galaxy and there was no clear winner in sight. That had to change and it had to change quickly. 

He wouldn’t have considered it if he hadn’t tried everything else and he meant everything.

He didn’t choose who lightly. Megatron was impossible to touch. Tarn too fanatically loyal. Overlord too powerful. There was really only one option and it wasn’t easy to capture him.

It involved many sleepless nights waiting for a chance to shoot him out of the sky. It involved sedating an injured and thrashing mech and deliberately sabotaging the lights of his own base. It involved a secret room he had ordered built – and then transferred the builders – just for this purpose.

He blinded the mech with a hood that covered his optics. He bound him down to a berth and repaired him as best he could. He drugged him with care, not wanting him unconscious, but not in pain either.

This was going to be delicate work. Intricate work that the Matrix had far too much information on, and Optimus had watched Jazz work and knew how to get inside a mech’s processor.

The fact that it was Starscream made it only slightly more complicated. The Mech had been hurt too many times to make this easy, but he wasn’t Megatron’s Heir for nothing. He had power – though it was weakened by mockery – and skill. Passed out, tied down, blindered, he even looked just a little bit innocent. Optimus wondered if the Seeker had ever been played in this kind of game, if he knew what to expect. 

 

 

When Starscream woke, he was waiting. He had a read out that pinged him at changes in the other mech. As expected, the Seeker came online with a curse. “Where the Frag am I?” He woke in a frame that seemed to have lost its awareness all at once. His HUD – usually offering him comforting or less comforting information on his health – was gone. He couldn’t see, something was clasped over his optics. A strangers servos were touching his oddly heavy wings and he couldn’t sense any EM fields.

“Hush. You’re safe.” Optimus gently polished the Seeker’s wings, avoiding the hole in one of them.

“…Prime?” Starscream’s voice was confused and bleary. “What are you- get off me!”

“Don’t shout.” Optimus snapped his digits beside Starscream’s audial in warning. 

“…What happened to me?” Starscream tried to teek his surroundings, but his wings felt heavy and numb. His sensors were spinning and he couldn’t find an orientation, except for the digits still polishing his wing.

“You’ve been captured. I shot you down.” He didn’t apologize, though that was on his mind. 

Starscream screeched out several curses and Optimus covered his mouth with one servo, pressing just enough to muffle and making soft sounds between his dentea to soothe him. “Shh… You can’t do that, Starscream, or I’ll have to put a mutebox on you.”

“Don’t you fragging-!” The Seeker began to screech again and Optimus picked up the mutebox, strapping it across his throat. 

“I warned you, didn’t I?” Optimus adjusted the mutebox flush against his throat and made sure it was in place. “Now quiet. Shh…”

Starscream pitched his helm, trying to throw off the blinders and the mutebox. Optimus snapped his digits beside his audial again. “Stop that, or there will be consequences.”

Starscream bared his denteas and the Prime sighed, stepping away. “When you have calmed down, I will return.” There was a tap on a glass table nearby as he filled an energon cube and set it next to Starscream’s helm, just close enough so the Seeker would be able to smell it. Then, he left.

 

“Last night’s blackouts were caused by a small explosive device planted at the primary junction. It was of Decepticon make. Red Alert suspects Ravage or Laserbeak.” Prowl informed the officers. “As such, I am ordering a new encryption placed on all comms and that everyone change their passwords.”

There was some grumbling. “We have got to find a way to stop those pesky cassettes from getting into the base!” Ironhide smacked his servo on the table. 

“Suggestions would be welcome, mech, those little guys are sneaky.” Jazz shook his helm. 

“If that’s all the business we have, I move to adjourn.” Ratchet spoke up. “I have to take an inventory of the medbay. Some of my supplies are missing.”

“Probably the twins wanting to play a prank.” Ironhide drawled as he stood as well.

“Though what they would want with painkillers and numbing agents is beyond me.” Ratchet agreed. “Wheeljack, I’m going to send you a list of things I need ASAP. Some of our stores are seriously depleted.”

“Can do, Ratchet. I’ll be waiting to receive.” Wheeljack nodded, saluting.

“Good to hear, mechs.” Optimus dismissed them. “Meeting adjourned.” He stood up. “Prowl I’ll see you in my office later to discuss tactics.”

“Yes, Prime.” Prowl nodded and headed deeper into the base.

Optimus checked his pager. Starscream had calmed down for the most part, but there was still the occasional spike across his spark rate. The computer he consulted stated that this was normal for mechs in an unfamiliar situation and indicated slight anxiety. Right on target. He would be fine for another few hours until shift change. By then, perhaps he would be hungry enough to want the energon that had been left out and perhaps to behave.

 

Starscream barely twitched when Optimus approached the berth he had been tied down to. With his other senses offline and his wings numbed, he only had his hearing left. In the interests of disorienting him, this too was going to go away.

Starscream jerked his helm when Optimus reached out and touched his shoulder, trying to shift away from him. The Prime gently stroked until the Seeker stopped squirming, seeming more resigned. “If I take the mutebox off, are you going to screech?”

Starscream bared his denteas.

“I think that’s a yes. It will stay on then.” Optimus picked up the energon cube. “You need to refuel.”

Starscream kept his lipplates held back, determined to be defiant. 

Optimus snapped his digits beside the Seeker’s audial, startling him. “That was your warning.”

Starscream made a hissing noise through his nasal vents and tried to rattle his wings unsuccessfully. 

Optimus sighed and set the energon cube down. “Well, I hope you appreciate that I can’t fuel you if you’re going to misbehave. I’ll be back later.”

Picking up a pair of noise-cancellation headphones, he slid them down over Starscream’s audials and activated the magnets. Immediately, the Seeker began tossing his helm, but they held firm. Disoriented, he continued to struggle with them while Optimus left.

He stepped out and closed the secret door behind him. The shelf of datapads and over-sized human books slid back into place with ease.

“How do I live with myself some days?” He wondered quietly to himself. 

 

Optimus kept an optic on the new information screen on his HUD. Starscream passed out after his vitals spiked disturbingly into the red several times. He was at 23% fuel – decent enough, but he’d need more if he was going to heal well. Optimus would put an energon drip into one of his lines and top him off. His pain sensory levels seemed unusually high, probably because he had been struggling so vigorously.

However, there was a much simpler explanation than that and that was that Starscream had managed to accidentally pull his paindampener drip beneath one of his straps, stopping the flow. Optimus re-adjusted the Seeker and his pain levels dipped back to normal soon enough.

Optimus topped the Seeker to an easy 56%, leaving plenty of headspace to rumble unpleasantly in the back of the Seeker’s mind while not putting him in actual danger. Then, he went to berth – setting an alarm to notify him if Starscream woke up.

 

Starscream woke to sound – a relief after the headphones had rendered him deaf – and to the touch of a soft cloth across his lower leg.

“How often did you refuel?” The Prime’s voice was soft and gentle. “Your plating’s a mess. It can’t have been often.”

It was more that his rations hadn’t been adequate for his workload than irregular fueling. He was a Seeker and Seekers naturally burned more fuel, but the Decepticons didn’t have the resources to keep everyone happy, so all of the soldiers had to suffice on the same ration. And yes, he knew that he was scratched up and his colors were dull. Did that mean it needed to be rubbed in?

“You may answer.” Optimus told him, reaching up and touching a button on the mutebox, deactivating it.

Starscream snapped. “What business is it of yours?”

The Prime touched the button again and cut off his rant before it could start. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. Do you want to fuel now? Nod or shake.” He instructed.

Starscream bared his denteas. He had fueled within the past three days – according to his calculations of time, his chronometer was deactivated – and that meant that he should be fine.

Optimus Prime snapped his digits beside his audial, the sudden loud noise never failing to startle Starscream. “That was your warning.”

Starscream hissed again. He was no one’s pet. No one could warn him of anything!

There was a sigh from the Convoy’s vents and the noise-cancellation headphones fell back over his audials, dropping him into a directionless void.

 

It was a long, hard struggle. Starscream had a stubborn personality and more than enough Moxie to drag this out. Optimus couldn’t help but admire that, even as he tried to grind it down. He lowered the amount he topped the Seeker off every evening, until he was just raising him up to 30% and no more. 

On the Festival of Carne Sulas, Wheeljack brought Optimus a box of energon treats. It was a fairly large box, more than what Optimus would eat. “You shouldn’t have, Wheeljack.”

“Oh, come on, Prime!” Wheeljack cajoled. “We have plenty of fuel. You should spoil yourself a little.” He pressed the box into his servos. “There should be some benefits to Command.”

“…Thank you, Wheeljack.” He didn’t want to go into this. Not today.

Starscream was about to wake up when he stepped into the chamber again, still holding the box of treats. He discarded them on the austere table next to the untouched pitcher of energon. He took off the headphones and set them aside, rubbing his shoulder gently with the cloth. Starscream didn’t look as impressive this way: Unpolished and unpainted, naked plating dull and devoid of the shine normally associated with him. Far from glowing with health, he was peeling at the edges. 

He onlined quietly and Prime braced himself to be ignored as he spoke to the Seeker. But today something was different. Starscream vented in heavily and then raised his helm slightly, turning about and… sniffing?

The Seeker clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in question, helm turning toward the table and the box of sweets on it.

Something fell into place in Optimus’s helm. He had figured out by now that Starscream responded to carrots, not sticks, but he hadn’t been able to find a suitable carrot until now.

“Are you hungry?” Optimus questioned. Stupid question, he knew the Seeker was hungry, but it needed asking.

Starscream’s pride made him purse his lips, not wanting to admit weakness, but there was a long moment of struggle made clear in the set of his mouth, in the stubborn clutch of his neckcables tensing up. Then, Optimus felt like he could see the moment when Starscream’s pride bent and he nodded.

A flare of triumph across his processor and he picked up the pitcher of energon. “If you drink two energon cubes, I’ll let you have as many treats as you want.” He promised, knowing that two cubes would top the Seeker off nicely at about seventy percent.

Starscream’s lipplates tightened again and he nodded.

Optimus unlaced the top strap and slid an arm beneath Starscream’s shoulders, taking up the cube in his off servo. “Ready?” He questioned, resting a corner against Starscream’s lipplate.

The Seeker didn’t answer properly and Optimus snapped his digits, making him jump. “Answer me.”

Starscream’s lipplates tightened, but he nodded.

“Good.” Optimus stroked his shoulder soothingly, and tipped the energon cube slightly, letting the fuel trickle into Starscream’s mouth. 

Starscream’s shoulder tensed slightly and if his optics had been unshuttered, Optimus didn’t doubt he would have a pretty good glare directed at him.

Starscream finished the two cubes without much trouble, though he started bucking his helm halfway through the second.

Optimus pulled the cube away. “What’s wrong?”

Starscream coughed and his vents spun. 

“Went down the wrong pipe?”

The Seeker snorted through his vents, clearing them, and nodded.

“I’m sorry.” Optimus soothed his digits over his wing while Starscream recovered. “Ready?”

Starscream pressed his lipplates back together and nodded, accepting the cube again. A breathless sigh escaped his lipplates and the Prime removed his arm. “Good, Starscream. Didn’t spill a drop.” The Prime praised, rubbing the crest of Starscream’s helm. 

Starscream almost bristled at the praise, but decided it wasn’t worth not getting one of the sweetly-spicy scented treats. The tantalizing scent came closer and Starscream couldn’t hide how much he wanted to taste the treat. It had been so long since he had had anything of the kind and the memory of such flavors burned in his processor. 

The Prime placed the treat in his mouth and Starscream sank his denteas into it. It was flavored with something familiar and deeply sweet. He began chewing, enjoying the taste, feeling the soothing rub of a thumb-digit against his helm…

Suddenly, he froze. No! No, he was not a pet! He couldn’t be bought with sweets and soft touches! It was a trick! A trick! And he rebelled, pitching himself up and spitting the treat out, not caring where it ended up, just needing it out of his mouth now. The thumb stopped stroking and jerked away. He hoped he had managed to hit the Prime with the sticky mess.

“…That wasn’t very polite.” Optimus’s voice had a frown in it, but Starscream didn’t care.

He met the headphones with his usual struggles as he felt a streak of congealing sweet on his spread wing solidifying. There was a thrill of triumph as he went into the void. He had resisted the monster for another day.

 

Optimus punished Starscream by not taking off the headphones or topping him off for the next three days. He maintained the Seeker with care during that time, and left the box of treats open next to him. He could tell that Starscream still wanted one of the treats, but clearly viewed taking one as some form of surrender.

The problem with resisting was that it showed an aggressor right where to keep pressing to spur capitulation. Taking a treat was surrender? Then he had to make Starscream take one and keep it. So, every morning and every evening, he offered the Seeker a treat. The first day, he refused it entirely, tanks still comfortingly full. The second day, he took the treat offered in the morning, but spat it out in Optimus’s general direction. Optimus chastised him by sending a sudden burst of overwhelming static through the headphones. Starscream jerked just like he responded to the click of snapped digits. 

The third day, he refused the treat, lipplates shut tight. The fourth day, Optimus caught sight of his forked tongue moistening his lipplates as he resisted the lure. The fifth day, he took the treat again and chewed.

Optimus held his vents, one servo resting on the Seeker’s cockpit, stroking gently along the smooth glass, optics focused intently on Starscream’s faceplates as his denteas worked the treat over. He went still and Optimus prepared to be splattered with sweet stickiness mixed with oral lubricant. There was a long moment where it felt like nothing vented, and then the Seeker swallowed. A trembling began in his limbs and wings and coolant welled up in his optics. 

Still reeling slightly from surprise and a sickening pride, Optimus opened his mask and bent close over Starscream, soothing him gently and pressing a soft kiss to his forehelm.

 

Megatron was raging at the walls. Starscream couldn’t possibly have vanished! That treacherous little snipe had to be plotting some way to take control for himself!

He went silent suddenly, thinking hard. Where would Starscream go that even Soundwave and his cassettes couldn’t find him? It couldn’t be the Autobot base, they had searched there already. And there was no way for the Seeker to have left this planet without Megatron knowing about it. He had to have some sort of bolthole hidden away. 

Soundwave watched his leader with some concern. Ever since Starscream’s disappearance, Megatron had been growing more unstable. The invincible Megatron did not deal well with prolonged paranoia. “Megatron: Status Update.” For now, Soundwave was doing all in his power to make sure Megatron was safe. If Starscream had been taken prisoner by the Autobots – unlikely, as Laserbeak would have found him – then everything had to be viewed as compromised. Soundwave took comfort only in the thought that Starscream hated the Autobots as much as Megatron and would resist them from sheer spite.

 

Starscream was exhausted. Not that he hadn’t had plenty of rest and fuel – treats had become expected after every top-off and he had stopped crying every time he accepted one, blasted hormones – but emotionally. Keeping so much hatred for so long without a break was hard. He had taken to imagining ways he would rip Optimus Prime apart, but it was getting harder to visualize. He was losing himself, and it terrified him to think that soon the Prime would have him wrapped around his smallest digit.

Fortunately, Optimus Prime seemed to have taken his trembling for cold and wrapped him in a blanket. “I know it gets chilly here during the planet’s winter, but we can’t keep the Ark warmer than it already is. I’m sure you know why.”

Of course he did. It would be child’s play for the Ark to be found on infrared. Not that Soundwave didn’t already know where the Ark was. It was hard to hide a mobile command base.

Then, he was being unstrapped and the mutebox was taken off his neckcables. Before he could take any sort of advantage, Optimus Prime had snapped a pair of cuffs onto his wrists in front of him and was lifting the still blinded Seeker into the air. 

“What are you doing?” His voice was grating even to his audials after so long not hearing it.

“It’s been a long time since you had a proper visit to the washracks.” The Prime explained. 

“You’re going to parade me in front of your men!” Starscream half-yelped, half accused. 

“Of course not. You’re going to have an oil bath in my quarters.” Optimus explained, carrying him into an over-bright room and removing the blinders.

Starscream hissed and tried to cover his optics, begging them to adjust. The light was blinding after so long in the dark and he found himself with his faceplates buried in Optimus Prime’s shoulder as he trembled, unable to keep looking at the too-bright light.

Optimus reached out and turned the lights down to bearable levels while Starscream hissed and forced his faceplates away from the Convoy. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and saw a frantic, scratched, colorless, and beaten mech. After that he just offlined his optics. He had known he would be ugly without his paints and polishes, but there was a difference between seeing and knowing.

Starscream felt the Prime lay him in a tub and tried to get a feel for it. His wings were still numbed, but he could feel his pedes didn’t reach the other side. This had been made for a Convoy to bathe in, no way around it. Even his wingspan could fit in the tub, the edges of his wings not touching the sides. He sensed a faucet above his helm and to the right, slightly off center, but that was all.

The flow of warm oils and solvent was a shock across his system. Number one, it felt brilliant because the Ark really was cold as a bitch. Number two, it began to revive his wings and the sudden sensory input was a relief. Number three, it had been so long since he had had a proper wash and his array was pinging him for a self-service. Had been a long time for that too.

The oil reached his chin before it was shut off. Prime had laid a rubber slip-proof mat over the bottom of the tub so Starscream wouldn’t fall under. Then, he left the Seeker to soak and luxuriate.

Starscream found himself alternately flaring his plates, trying to get the silky oil beneath every panel and piece of armor. When he had wiggled himself into a good position, he just let himself lie there against the mat with the oil surrounding him. He dozed off and only woke as the oil was losing its heat and the Prime was massaging his plating with a sponge, laboriously working over his frame. Sleepy and just plain tired, Starscream didn’t bother to try and shake him off.

The Prime lifted him to his pedes to polish him as the oil drained. His wings finally had their first, solid teek since he had been bound and numbed. How long had it been? There was no way to tell. It was a satisfying moment to feel the Prime himself kneeling near his pedes as he polished him down. The last of the oil drained from the tub and Prime lifted him up and out.

“…You look much better.” Prime told him. “You don’t have to open your optics, but I wish you would.”

If Prime wished he would, of course he didn’t. He kept his optics offline and shook his helm. 

“Very well.” He carried the Seeker back through a main room and into a smaller one. It was here that the Seeker was rested against a berth and strapped in. To Starscream’s surprise, he didn’t re-numb his wings, letting him keep his teek. He did put the blinders back on, though.

“…What is your game, Prime?” Starscream whispered before the convoy could put the mutebox back on. “Why me?”

“…There was no one else suitable.” Prime admitted before slipping the headphones back over his helm. Back to the abyss. But this time – a day of surprises – there was music in the void. 

 

“Morale has reached an all-time low.” Jazz was shuffling papers. “However with Starscream’s disappearance – he is presumed dead – the Seekers are responsible for 50% fewer casualties.”

“We need some way to combat their air support. The Twins are doing all they can, but Jet Judo only goes so far.” Prowl agreed. “And the Aerialbots aren’t experienced enough to face the Armada.”

“…Remind me who leads the Seekers now.” Prime was only half-listening. It was the same issue, over and over again. Air support. Air defense.

“Starscream’s Second, Thundercracker.” Prowl checked the information. “He hates Grounders specifically. Almost worse than Starscream in that respect, but he’s less of a force to reckon with as well. In all, I’d say his more cautious tactics – and the fact that he’s very much a follow orders mech – is responsible for the decrease in casualties.”

“Thank you, Prowl.” Optimus thought deeply. “I am… working on a new strategy for dealing with Decepticon Air Support, but it depends heavily on an unlikely variable. I’d be open to suggestions.”

But no one really had any. The crushing truth was that Autobots didn’t fly.

 

Optimus Prime coaxed Starscream into conversation while he maintained the Seeker’s frame. “Thundercracker is leading the Seekers now.” He was beginning to be confused. Starscream was proving unusually resistant to his attempts. Perhaps it was time for new tactics, or all of this was wasted effort.

Starscream was quiet for a long moment, but the Seeker was starving for contact, and had been starving for affection for far longer than his captivity. “I would have chosen Skywarp.”

“Really? I thought he was a party mech.”

“He is, but he’s also more open to taking risks. Thundercracker is too middle-of-the-road to command well.” Starscream’s servo was limp in his as he detailed it with a polishing cloth. The Seeker was an all-consuming project.

“Ah. I see.” Optimus nodded. “But he was more experienced, wasn’t he?”

“He was my Second, if that’s what you mean, but I had advised Megatron that if something happened to me I wanted Skywarp to take command. I suppose I should have told him Thundercracker because he does the opposite of what I want in any case.”

“We have noticed fewer casualties under Thundercracker.”

Starscream snorted. “Of course you have.” He thought for a moment. “Did they look for me?”

Optimus paused for a moment, thinking of how to answer the question. “…No. There were no increased patrols, no system – wide scans. I assume Soundwave checked our brig.”

“But of course, I wasn’t there.” Starscream muttered.

“No, you weren’t.” Optimus agreed. “You haven’t left my quarters in all your time here.”

“How scandalous.” Starscream drawled. “Whatever do your Autobots think?”

“They don’t know.” Optimus was quietly honest. “But they would not approve.”

Starscream chuckled softly. “I have found a new respect for you, Prime. I’ll be your dirty little secret, if you’ll do something for me.”

“It would depend on what you would demand.” Optimus was half-glad to see that Starscream was still himself, but he wasn’t quite ready to turn him loose yet. 

“Kill Megatron.” Starscream flatly told him. “Don’t take him prisoner. Don’t accept his surrender. Don’t let him escape.”

“…I can’t promise that.”

“Then I will not help you.”

“Then you will never leave.” Optimus strapped the limb he had finished polishing back down, sealed him into the headphones, and then pressed the mutebox over his neck. 

 

Three days of silent, impersonal care, and Starscream began to crave those soft freedoms the Prime had allowed him. When the Prime unstrapped the Mutebox the next time, he pounced on it. “I hate it when you do that. Don’t ignore me.”

“Do not dictate to me.” Optimus snapped his digits in warning, Starscream responding with a well-engrained flinch. “It’s a privilege to be without a mutebox. You have to earn it.”

Starscream made his voice syrupy sweet. “Please don’t ignore me, oh gracious master.”

“That is not much better.” Optimus sighed heavily. 

Starscream sighed and laid back. “Well, what have I been granted the privilege of communication for?”

“To bargain.” Optimus stated.

“For?” The Seeker quietly asked.

“Your continued stay. It’s terms.” Optimus sat down beside his berth. “What I want from you.”

“…You’re in a very favorable position to bargain, Optimus Prime. I assume if I refuse, you’ll kill me immediately.”

“Nothing so kind as that.” Optimus hated this – knew it was practically an empty threat. “If you outright refuse, I will strap you back in, sever your senses, and we will never speak again. I will connect you to a dripline for energon and seal this room. No one will question it, no one knows you’re here.”

“…Careful, Optimus Prime, you sound more like Megatron with every passing moment.” Starscream’s faceplates were grim. “What is my alternative?”

“Serve me and protect my family. If you survive to war’s end, I will give you anything you ask for, except for rule over Cybertron or the Matrix itself. Those are not mine to give.”

“And until then?” The Seeker asked quietly, clearly considering it. 

“You will be allowed to leave this room – under my supervision – to assist in the war effort and to train the Aerialbots. You will be allowed an hour to fly through the area around the Ark every other evening. There will be a radius I will set. Earn my trust and I’ll let you fly farther.” Optimus listed. “During battle, I will expect you to fight for us in the air. To ensure your loyalty, I will install one of these.” He pressed a device into Starscream’s servo and the mech stiffened. “I knew you would know what it is. A timed spark extractor. If it doesn’t receive a code every cycle, it will detonate. Try to remove it without the deactivation code, and it will detonate.”

“…And, of course, there’s a code that will detonate it if I misbehave?” Starscream questioned.

“I trust your sense of self-preservation not to allow anything of the kind to happen.”

“And when you are not supervising me? What will I do then?”

“Earn my trust and I’ll let you have reading material, small entertainments, even a design suite if it suits your fancy.” Optimus promised. “Until then, your off-time will be spent as it has been: Strapped down, where you can’t cause trouble.”

“But I will be given agency of my frame back?” Starscream sharply questioned. “To use the facilities, feed, and clean myself on my own.”

“Yes. Supervised.” Optimus countered.

Starscream pursed his lipplates. “…You have me in a cage and you know it, don’t you?”

“I do.” Optimus quietly agreed. “What will it be, Starscream?”

“…I have two conditions of my own.” Starscream told him. 

Optimus had expected cursing and perhaps crying. “Name them.”

“I want a new paintjob and detailing. I can’t go to war against my own Seekers looking like this.” He nodded at himself.

“Done. I will have Sunstreaker work to your specifications.”

“No. With some simple tools and paint, I can do it myself.” Starscream shook his helm. “And I want Wheeljack to make me an HUD if you’re not going to reactivate mine. I can’t go into battle with my processor tied behind my back.”

“I will speak to him.” Optimus promised. “And your second demand?”

“I know what I would want at the end of this war. I want to be your Consort – declared and bonded.”

“Impossible.” Prime went with his knee-jerk reaction.

“Then I would rather be locked away to madness. I will not allow this war to start again because Autobots fear change and will not bend.” He bared his denteas. “And you will be assured of my loyalty.”

“…I will declare for you when you have earned my men’s trust.” Optimus found himself in the hot seat now. “And we will bond when the war has ended.”

“I want a contract.” Starscream demanded. “A contract of betrothal: A physical copy that I will keep and one on record.”

“You’ll have it.” Optimus promised.

“An unbreakable one, in the old style of Cybertron that cannot be taken back or changed.”

“I will have Mirage draw it up for your review.”

“Then you have a bargain. I will await you completing your terms.” Starscream closed his mouth and laid back.

“No.” Optimus stated. “First, I want a show of loyalty.”

“Like what? There’s not much I can do here and any codes I knew will have been changed.”

“I want you to make an appearance at a battle. Declare yourself for me, and I’ll declare for you.” Optimus told him.

“…You’re a sick, twisted glitch.” Starscream growled. “If I do that and you renege, I won’t have anywhere to go at all!”

“You have my word, and I won’t go back on it.” Optimus pressed his Field outwards suddenly, letting the Seeker feel a burst of his emotions, the resolve and determination he felt.

After a long stare-down, the Seeker’s wings drooped. “Fine. How should this go?”

 

Megatron and Optimus faced each other. It always came down to this. The silver warlord hunted Optimus Prime out no matter where he was on the field. But today. Today it was going to be very different.

“Give it up, Megatron, this is your last chance to surrender!” Optimus bellowed at him as the silver warlord approached.

“Nonsense!” Megatron dismissed the offering. “You’ve nothing new to offer, Optimus Prime, and we will crush you as we have all others who challenge Megatron!”

“Oh, don’t I?” Optimus let out a shrill whistle, a call to arms. 

“…I can’t believe you’re WHISTLING for me.” Starscream’s voice hissed in his audial. He had replaced the Seeker’s comm, but rigged it so he could only call Optimus’s frequency.

Optimus played the sound of his digits snapping overly loudly over the comm and Starscream flinched in mid-air. “…Point taken.”

 

There were gasps and pointing from both sides when Starscream appeared in the sky. The Seeker made his intentions brutally clear by running a strafe over the battlefield, targeting Decepticons and putting Motormaster out of commission as well as Scrapper.

“Starscream, you traitor!” Megatron bellowed at him. But the Decepticons were already in chaos. Starscream had been universally mocked and laughed at when he was just the posing second in command with designs on the top seat, but now that they were facing him instead of fighting beside him… wasn’t all that funny, was he? 

As the Decepticons fled the field, Starscream landed on an outcropping of rock and transformed to watch them go. If he wished he was going with them, he didn’t give any sign of it except for staring after them. 

Optimus gave a soft click with his glossa against the roof of his mouth. The Seeker responded better to these sounds that resembled his instinctive frame-language. The harsh snap of digits sounded like “Cease at once,” the whistle Prime had used to summon him was “To my side,” and the soft click was “come here.”

Starscream hesitated for a moment, then swooped off of the outcrop and landed next to the Prime, nodding deferentially to him. “Orders, Optimus?” He stiffly questioned, uncomfortable with the display.

“Return to the Ark, but do not enter until I return.” Optimus instructed, sending the Seeker on his way.

“As you wish.” Starscream snapped a salute and took to the air.

And, with that, the Prime began picking up his stunned soldiers and turned to face Prowl and Jazz. “…He’ll be waiting for us back at the base, if you want to shout at us both.”

“…This was your plan to deal with the Decepticon’s air superiority.” Prowl hit the nail on the head. 

“Yes. I have been… talking with Starscream about joining us for a long time and I recently reached an agreement with him.” Optimus explained, not going into detail about how he had softened the Seeker up prior to this. He had done what he had done in service of the greater good, but was it the right thing?

Watching Starscream fly towards the Ark, he didn’t know.


End file.
